


Comfort and Fire

by barneybuck



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Anxiety, Billy hargrove top, Billy hargroves a little shit, Dissociation, Eventual Smut, Gay, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Steve harringtons a little shit, anger issues, billy makes steve his bitch, steve harrington bottom, trust me im getting to it, vice versa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 15:04:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15643212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barneybuck/pseuds/barneybuck





	Comfort and Fire

One of the things Steve hated most was an empty house. He was listless, fidgeting, cleaning. When he ran out of imported rugs to vacuum and abstract pictures his mom hoarded to straighten on the wall (even though they ended up even more crooked than before), he was left with nothing else to do.

Life without Nancy was dull. Hell, life with Nancy was dull. But at least then he'd have someone to spend his Friday nights arguing with. But in the three months after seeing her with Johnathan, the incident with baby sitting the kids during the demodog breakout, and getting his face smashed in by Billy Hargrove, Steve could confidently say Nancy was in his past.

So now here he was, stewing in his own thoughts and sitting in his _empty_ living room, in his _empty_ house.

He had to get the fuck out of there.

He watched the headlights shine up the driveway as he turned the key in the ignition of his car. Not _his_ car. His parent's car. They left this one behind in exchange for their Caddy on their two week get away to god knows where. The air was crisp for early November, but he didn't mind the cold as he rolled his windows down and started off in a random direction.

He ended up at Stifflers Quarry. He came here sometimes, on nights like this. When his insides were turning and his anxiety felt like it was trying to climb its way into his throat. It was a place that he found, and was pretty sure almost no one knew about. He had never run into anyone else here before. It was his.

He drove his car through the off road trail, kicking up dust and pushing through brush. He was definitely coating his fathers previously shiny black car in a thin sheen of earth, along with leaving a few scratches from the brush. He was too pent up to care. The night wasn't as dark as it could be, with the stars and the full moon illuminating the road ahead. It wasn't quiet, either. The sounds of nature were loud around him, especially with his windows down. He could smell the pine trees and the freshness of the dirt. He felt the churning inside his stomach slowly dissipating.

Only for it to come back; with a jolt that made him grip his steering wheel and a vengeance.

As he pulled his car into the opening on the cliff that overlooked the quarry, he saw another car.

A Camaro. A blue Camaro. _Billy Hargrove's_ blue Camaro.

What the fuck his he doing here?! Steve's mind quickly searched for answers. There was a party at Tommy's house going on right now, shouldn't he be there? Drinking and fucking and living in Steve's old role as The King. Not that Steve cared. Billy could have the throne, and all the bullshit that came with it. After all the shit in the past two years, Steve was a completely different person. None of it mattered to him. Who threw the best parties, who said what, who fucked who. 

Fucked.. Following his splintered train of thought, Steve landed on a conclusion as to Billy's presence's at Stifflers Quarry. Billy _had_ gone to the party. And picked up a girl. And brought her here. To _Steve's_ place. His sanctuary, his refuge. 

A fierce sense of possessiveness shot through Steve like a bullet for his little overlook of Stifflers Quarry. How dare that asshole steal his place and turn it into his fucking hook up parking space! Billy acted so entitled, so superior. It rubbed Steve the wrong way and pissed him off in ways even he didn't understand. Billy always had a way to get under his skin. The taunting, the smirk on Billy's face after he crossed him up at basketball practice. And now, this. 

Before his mind registered his actions, Steve had his car in park and was marching towards Hargrove's car, his footsteps maybe a little purposefully loud in the pebbled dirt. He wasn't in the mood to see anything that might be going on behind those tinted windows.

Without looking in, he knocked aggressively on the drivers window. After waiting a few seconds that dragged on, he dared to peer in.. 

Only to find no girl. No Hargrove. No one. It was empty.

His anger quickly dissipated into confusion. What the fuck? 

Now unsure, Steve looked around. He didn't see Billy. His car was unlocked. His keys sat, abandoned, right on the drivers seat. 

Weird. 

Looking down, visible by the cool white light of the full moon, were footprints. Not his own, sneakered footprints. Those were boots. Leading away from the Camaro.

Steve, without thinking, began to follow them. Because what else would he do? Steve had never been one to care much for self safety. 

He followed, heading into the trees and following the downward slant of the land. He emerged onto another opening. Dirt and rock covered, this one was smaller. While the first landing, Steve's place, could fit at least ten parked cars, this one could fit at most three, and was only accessible by foot. 

Looking out over the quarry, Steve was momentarily stunned by the view. On this lower level, the view of the quarry was even more intense. The full moon's light seemed even brighter, reflecting off of the slate blue water, making the quarry look larger. The rock that surrounded the water climbed up; the sharp, jagged edges of the cliffs looking more serene than deadly in the night light. The trees that pushed close to the cliffs edges, which usually looked ominous, now looked more mysterious and enticing. 

Shaking himself out of his daze, Steve's eyes scanned over the open space. His eyes landed on a figure, broad shoulders hunched and clad in a black leather jacket. Hargrove leaned against a rock, with his legs pulled up and his elbows resting on his knee caps, his head hanging. 

Steve was taken aback. Though he couldn't see his face, Hargrove's body posture was.. Upset. Despondent. It wasn't the raw anger Steve was used to seeing on the other boy. It somehow made Steve even more uneasy. 

Picking up his pace, Steve called out to him. "Hey, Hargrove!"

Billy didn't even twitch. 

Fuckin' weird.. Was the first thought to race through Steve head, followed by his most natural instinct: worry. Was he ok?

"Hargrove?" Easing forward more slowly now, Steve finally caught sight of Billy's face. His temple and the side of his eye were more pink than the rest of his pale skin, a bruise beginning to set in. The blood dripping down the side of his face from the cut on his temple was almost dry, the slightest bit of shine still glistening red. His bottom lip, not in its usual devilish smirk, was split open. 

Worse than anything else, was his eyes, They were empty, lifeless, staring out over the quarry. It didn't look like he truly saw anything. The anxiety tried to claw its way out of Steve's stomach when he thought of the eyes he was used to seeing on the other boy; full of emotion, whether it be a mischievous glint or murderous temper.  

Steve wasn't stupid. People talked. He's even heard Max admit to a few things in passing, like how her step-dad's a real ass. How he's quick to anger. How he's scary. How Billy and his dad don't get along.. 

Steve never really thought any deeper into it. Billy did kind of beat the shit out of him, he didn't have any reason to. With the Upside Down and psychic kids around, his mind was elsewhere.

But now, as Steve crouched, level with Billy, he distantly regretted his indifference.

"Hey man, you alright?" 

Those eyes still stared, dead. 

In the back of his head, Steve remembered something. Something like this happens to Will, regularly. He had been there, once. Seen the blank look in Will's eyes, the way he went mute and emotionless. Disassociating, Mike had called it. "It happens to soldiers," Mike went on, "or rape victims, or anyone who's had something really bad happen. It's part of PTSD."

Steve had knew the basics of PTSD, wanted to know more for Will but never had the chance to look into it. Now, looking into Billy's bloody face, he kind of wish he did. Getting the shit beat out of you by your own dad had to count as traumatizing, right?

Steve reached out, placing his hand gently on Billy's shoulder. "Hargr-"

Steve's words were abruptly cut off. In the span of a second, the muscles under Billy's skin flicked from loose to coiled with tension. Billy jerked back from the touch as if struck, springing to his feet and knocking Steve on his ass in the process. 

His eyes now wild, his breath panting, Billy looked down at Steve. He looked feral with the blood on his face, his body a rigid line of aggression and strength. He looked hot. 

Steve's mind immediately backpedaled. Where the fuck did that come from? 

Steve stayed silent and watched as Billy's expression went from animalistic, to recognition, to confusion, and then settled on hostile. To be completely honest it was completely fascinating how expressive his eyes could be. 

The two of them stayed like that, Steve on his ass and Billy looming over him, while Billy's breathing slowly turned back to a regular pace. As the silence stretched, Steve's mind raced and his anxiety had actually managed to climb its way out of his stomach, taking place in his head and scattering every logical thought. Is Billy going to hit him? How did Billy know this ledge even existed? Did Billy know he disassociated? Did Steve leave the coffee pot on?

Of course, it was Billy who spoke first.

"What in the literal fuck are you doing here, Harrington?" 

"I should be the one asking you that, Hargrove." Steve spat back. 

Billy's eyebrow arched. "I was here first."

"Yea, well, I knew about this place long before you even knew this town existed. _I_ was here first." 

Once again, the two boys lapsed into a stalemate of silence. Steve, realizing his position on the floor was also making it easier for Billy to appear to be the one in charge, swiftly got to his feet. In response, Billy shifted, crossing his arms over his chest in a defiant manner and but holding his ground, not moving out of Steve's space. Billy tipped his chin back, exposing more of his neck and glaring at Steve from beneath ridiculously long eye lashes. Steve glared right back, feeling the heat radiate off of Billy's skin and sensing the antagonistic energy seeping off of him in waves. The close proximity made Steve's nerves alight. The heat made his own body grow hotter. In the back of his mind he noticed how the whole front of Billy's shirt was open, revealing tanned, muscled skin.

Steve conceded, taking a step back, his eyes flitting away. What the fuck was wrong with him? 

Billy, as if reading Steve's mind, flashed him a sharkish grin. "Am I makin' you nervous, pretty boy?" 

Steve scowled. "Are you going to tell me what you're doing out here, or not?" 

"Just enjoying the view," Billy drawled, the earlier hostility slipping away to be replaced by his trademarked charm. 

Steve threw up his arms, exasperated. "Fine, whatever. See you later, Hargrove." 

Steve turned, ready to march back to his car and book it back home where he would probably be too anxious to sleep; he'd just pace around his house and clean things that he's already cleaned a hundred times in his anxious boredom. 

After a few steps, he heard Billy's voice behind him. 

"Wait."

Steve turned, quirking his eyebrow in response. 

"I, uh, got a joint if you want to smoke." Shockingly, Billy looked almost sheepish, his eyes flicking to his boots and back to Steve. "It's good shit too, its the last of what I brought from Cali." 

If possible, Steve felt his eyebrow raise even higher. 

Billy took Steve's response as rejection, and his reaction was quick and swift, his vulnerability replaced by malice once again. 

"Actually, never mind. You're probably so used to the shit weed this town has, you'd think good bud was laced." 

"Calm down, big guy." Steve smirked. "Lets see what you got." 


End file.
